


I'm Tired of Pretending ( we'll get through this together )

by melanoradrood



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fluff, Healthy Communication, One Shot, Smut, WE ARE EARNING THAT E RATING, and other background details, based on the show, emotionally?, making it SPARKL, really I'm just adding in a conversation, regency kink, sexual content ahead beware, welcome to my ted talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29538210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoradrood/pseuds/melanoradrood
Summary: I’m tired of pretending as though I do not love you...... if we do this, we’ll get through this, together.A 1x08 Canon Ending Rewrite, adding in Healthy Communication, Healthy Resolutions, and a Healthy Amount of Sex
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset
Comments: 65
Kudos: 210





	I'm Tired of Pretending ( we'll get through this together )

Holding Daphne in his arms again felt… strange. This was not the first time they had shared a dance, nor was this the first time he had held her close. He had held her in his arms a hundred times, even though they had only been married for a few months, and he knew every inch of her skin, how her body fit against his, how she felt so right in his arms.

Holding her now, as they danced at their very own ball, it felt… different. It felt like goodbye.

And it was. He had told her, promised her, that if her _efforts_ had no product, they would then separate, and go about their lives.

And why should they not? He was clearly unable to resist her, to resist having her in his bed, to resist having her body underneath his. She had taken advantage of him, even if she did not understand how, and there had been a chance that she had taken from him the very thing that he held most dear.

It was the only thing he could do to his father, truly, to be the last of the line. He had been so close, out on that dueling field, could have died that day… Instead, to save _her_ , he had taken a wife, breaking his first vow to his father.

And she had nearly forced him to have a child.

He had thought about that night, over and over again. The look of betrayal in her eyes. How she had spoken of him taking advantage of her. How he had told her, _again_ , that he could not give her a child.

How she had insisted that _could not_ and _would not_ were completely different things.

She was not wrong. She was never wrong, his little wife. That did not make it any easier to swallow, however. That did not make it easier for him to tell her the truth. Telling her that he would not give her children, it meant that he had to tell her why he wanted to end his line, why he did not want to take a wife.

It meant that he had to tell her why he wanted to be alone. It meant that he had to tell her all of his faults, all of the reasons why he was not a suitable heir.

Telling Daphne why he could not give her a child… it meant telling her the truth about his entire life, a truth that no one knew of, save for Lady Danbury.

He had hated his father for so long, it was the only thing he seemed to know how to do anymore. Use that hatred to fuel him. Use the anger to keep moving forward.

But now, as he looked at a future without Daphne, he knew the truth of it… that that anger and hatred, it had burned out. All he felt now was sadness. Loneliness. A life without her in it… 

He _loved_ her more than he had ever hated his father, but-

It felt too late. She no longer looked at him as she once had. She had asked him if he had been at the club, sleeping with another woman. She had asked if there was nothing more of their marriage. She had tried to take him to bed, and he-

He had turned her away.

He had destroyed everything. Her feelings for him, her trust in him, it had been so pure, and he had broken it, destroyed it, all with his lies and his anger and his vow.

His vow. His vow that he had made to his father.

He had made another vow, to Daphne. A vow to love and protect her. To keep her safe. To see her through every step of life. He had broken his vows to her, all in favor of keeping a vow made on the deathbed of a man he hated.

Simon had thought, in ending the line, that he would have the last laugh, that in the end, he would win.

How could he win anything, if he was without her?

It was easy to make a vow of loneliness when one had not yet felt the sun upon their skin, but now that he had felt such warmth, he ached to feel the brilliant rays of his lovely wife once more.

Even if just for a moment, he wished that she would smile without pain in her eyes.

He did not look away as they started to move, a familiar dance, one they had done together before. The last time they had danced like this, there had been laughter on their faces, joy in their eyes, and he had felt his heart burst as she looked at him, the two of them unable to take their eyes from one another.

He did not look away now. He could not look away, for indeed, he was filled with such a fear that if he should even blink, she would disappear from his arms forever.

And she would, for after this night, after the end of this season… he would send Daphne back to Clyvedon House, where she could continue to make the changes she desired, and he would take up residence in one of the many estates, likely a hunting cabin, so that he could be undisturbed.

It was not what he wanted. He knew that, now, as he looked down at her one last night, but-

Could one even fix that which they had shattered? Was she even open to the possibility of him changing? Would she allow him the chance to even speak? Or, had he destroyed everything. Had he truly destroyed the only happiness he had ever known?

Other couples joined them in their dance while most other guests moved closer to watch, but Simon did not see them, nor did he care. Time simply slowed down, the rest of the chaotic world fell away, and all that was left was Daphne. 

Daphne, his wife. Daphne, the woman that he loved. Daphne, the woman that he had betrayed. Daphne… the woman that would be the mother of his children, his constant companion through the rest of his earthly life, the one person he could trust in all ways… if he allowed himself to.

It hurt, to dance and not see her smile. All he saw was the pain and anguish, and it broke him. He had done this. He had broken her heart. He had tried to keep away from her, he truly had, but-

She could have been a Princess. She could have had a family. Instead, all she had was a broken husband that was too scared to even tell her that he loved her.

He smiled at her, just a touch, not even meaning to, just pleased that he could even think about the fact that he loved her, but then he tucked it back behind his mask, only to then be given a tiny quirk in her own lips, as though- as though she wanted to smile back at him.

God, he loved this woman. Why was he unable to tell her so?

He should do so, this very instant, this very moment, simply stop this dance, this ball, and tell his wife that he loved her, that he was devoted to her, that she was his saving grace, and that he was sorry.

But instead, he was too afraid to say anything, even as his heart broke, and he felt like weeping.

The sky made a noise above them, and then, as though understanding his own heart, the rain began to fall. It was ice cold, hitting the painting, the glasses, the tables, the guests - Simon stopped in the dancing, looking around, then moved to take shelter.

His wife, however, did not move. No, while others were shrieking and running away, she simply laughed, walking around the dance floor.

He grabbed at her arm, trying to pull her towards a covered awning, but she pulled back, refusing to go with him, even as he called out her name.

Her eyes were closed as the rain fell upon them, ruining her dress, the hair she had spent hours pinning up starting to fall, and soaking them both thru. Still, he did not leave her behind, too enraptured by the look on her face as the rain fell upon them both.

She was laughing, smiling, then looked to be silently screaming, or crying, or-

Simon did not know what she felt as she tilted her face back, allowing the rain to soak her, but he knew how he felt.

Everything felt as though it was being washed away. All of the anger and hatred. All of the lies. All of the preconceived notions. All of the deceit. All of the vows that he had made.

It was all being washed away, until all that was left was Simon and Daphne, two people that had once burned for one another.

He could only pray that the rain did not wash that away as well.

Their guests all disappeared by order of Lady Danbury, until eventually, it was simply them as well, no longer the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, simply Simon and Daphne. It felt good, to be without another watching them, to have no need for masks and falsehoods.

He felt, for once in his life, that he could speak freely, his throat no longer closing up, the words not being choked within his chest.

He felt, in this moment, as though he could breathe.

“I know why you made that vow to your father,” she said suddenly.

“What?” he asked, the word being ripped from his lungs before he could even speak.

“I went into his old office, the one that you refuse to enter. I must apologize, for I went through, and I… I found the letters you wrote him.”

Even with the rain washing everything away, he was unable to speak, simply staring at her. The letters… he should have burned them. He could have burned them. They had never even been opened…

“And I am sorry, for I know I had no right, but I just wanted to understand, and you pushed me away. I should have asked, and I know that now, but Simon, I did not even know what to ask-”

She looked so lost as she spoke, and he stepped forward, reaching out, taking her hand.

“No,” he said, interrupting her. “How could you? I kept so much from you…”

“And I understand why now,” she said, continuing from where she had left off. “Your father, he made you think that just because you were not perfect, that you were not worthy of being loved.”

Simon said nothing, simply swallowing down… everything. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but all he felt was… emptiness. He knew that, now, looking back on it, that his father had expected too much of him. No one could have lived up to the expectations that his father had had, but - 

Given his speech impediment… he never had a chance.

“Simon… Simon, if you wish to part from me, then do so. I understand, now, why you did not wish to marry me. I understand now that you were afraid. To love someone, to open yourself up in marriage, it is terrifying, and I know this now, I know this in a way I did not understand before we were wed, but-”

She became choked up, suddenly, and he wanted to stop her words, but -

He himself had been cut off, interrupted, rushed, a hundred times over. He would not rush her now.

“But I opened myself up to you,” she gasped out, the tears on her face very different from the rain drops that fell on them now. “I trusted you, and what happened… I am sorry for how the truth came out, and I am sorry for this distance between us, but I beg of you… I beg of you…”

Her face seemed to crumble, and he reached out for her, but she took a step back, waving an arm, keeping him from touching her.

For what felt like the first time in their marriage… he did not follow after her. He respected that she had separated them. He respected her desire to not be touched.

“I am tired of pretending that I do not love you,” she said, lifting her face to look up at him, even as the tears ran down her cheeks. “Because I do. I love all of you. Even the parts that you are embarrassed of, the parts that you consider broken. The parts that your father hated you for. I love you, Simon, and if you…”

Her arms crossed underneath her breasts, as though she were hugging herself, and he could not look away. He simply stood there, in the rain, watching his wife fall apart.

“If you have any affection left for me in your heart, then know this. The secrets between us, I am done with them. I will tell you every truth, every thought that passes through my mind. What you once kept from me, I now know. And here… here is my last secret.”

She sniffed, and then one arm fell as she approached him. Her hand lifted up, and he froze, watching as she approached, her fingers just barely touching his cheek.

“Love is a choice, and I choose to love you. I choose to spend the rest of my days loving you. I do not care if there are children. I do not care if you never take me to bed again. I simply ache to be in your presence, to share your smiles, to hold your hand, to have your trust…”

Her lips were shaking as she spoke, and he…

He said nothing. 

He did not move to touch her. She had not given him that permission.

“And you can choose to love me,” she said, her tone sounding as though she was coming to a finish. “You can choose to love me, and have a future with me, but it can _only_ be your choice. No one else has any right to deciding our future. So choose me. Love me. Let us be happy, together.”

Her hand fell from his face, and she took a step back. There was no pause in her movements, and it was clear to him that she did not expect an answer. 

It was a good thing, for he had none. He had nothing to say. He had no right to say anything.

For anything he said in this moment… it would simply be him, a broken man, falling to his knees, begging for forgiveness, unable to say anything else.

He watched as she turned and walked away, a hand brushing the tears from her face, and then she disappeared into the house, likely to change out of the ball gown, and get ready for bed.

He watched from right there on the dance floor as the last of her disappeared up the stairs, and then as her body was a silhouette within the window.

He stood there as eventually, her form left the view of the window, and the light within her room grew dim.

He stood there until the rain stopped, and the servants came to clear up the mess that the ball had left behind.

And then, he had gone to his father’s office.

First, he found the letters, all of them carefully unsealed. He knew it to have been Daphne’s hand that did such a thing. He looked at a few, reading his old words, and then, he began a fire in the fireplace.

One by one, he glanced at the words on the paper, a child’s plea for his father’s love. How cruel could a man be, that he would deny his son something so simple as that? Simon could not imagine hating his son so much…

A son. He had never thought he would have one of those, but if Daphne had been with child, he might soon have had a son. He wept as he burned each letter, wept for the child that had felt so alone.

And then, he burned more. He burned his father’s journals, he burned the correspondence from before his birth where he lamented the failings of his wife, he burned - he burned everything save for the ledgers, that showed what an old curmudgeon his father was. Simon would have to repay those that his father had wrung dry.

But first, he burned every last piece of his father. Every bit of him that was left, until the desk was empty, and Simon had removed his coat, sitting on his knees and sobbing.

He stayed there until morning, his shoulders stiff and his knees aching, and then he had stood, knowing that now, it was time to find his wife.

He knew where he would find her, but that did not change the fact that he first rang for the housekeeper and his wife’s Lady’s maid. The office, he asked that it be completely cleaned, stripped of his father’s personal effects, and to be made new. It was time to remove what his father had left behind. 

And then, he asked for privacy.

The look the two women gave him said it all - that they adored their Mistress, and that he had well and truly screwed up. This was not unknown to him, but as he began the walk up towards her room… Each step hurt.

Until, that is, he reached the top of the stairs and saw that the door to her rooms was open.

She had left it open, purposely. A clear invitation that, should he desire, he could enter. Amidst all of this arguing, the fighting, the silence, the glares, the door had always been slammed in his face, a clear distance between them.

Not now.

She had told him that she loved him. That she was _choosing_ to love him. That she knew every part of him. And… all he had to do was walk into the room, and choose to love her.

But, it was not a choice for him. Simon had had no choice in the matter at all. His love for Daphne was without ceasing, had come upon him while he surely fought it, and now, he was well and truly trapped. He loved her, burned for her, desired her, needed her-

How could he have ever thought he could survive without her in his life?

He was barely two steps into the room when he saw his wife was laying across the chaise, and then she was up, turning to look at him. Her hair was still damp from the night prior, completely down around her shoulders, and with her only wearing a dressing gown. He loved her like this, not looking like a proper Duchess, but instead, looking to be just his wife.

His wife. Daphne,, his beautiful wife, that loved him, that chose to be with him, that would give up everything if only to have his company.

Simon nearly fell to his knees at the thought of being away from her now. He had nearly destroyed everything, but she, so brave, so honest, had reached out, had told him her truth. It was time that he return the favor.

“Daff-”

The start of her name only just left his lips, and then, he was struck, unable to speak. He knew that, no matter what he said, it would never be enough, would never make up for the lies of omission, would never change the pain he had put her through, the distance he had kept her at. She had loved him, had trusted him.

His lips still moved, trying to find the words, but he could not.

She looked up at him, expectantly, her hands in her lap, and he looked down at the floor before him, unable to look her in the eye. He knew that the words, that he should use them, but even after so much time, he was afraid that no matter what he said, it would ruin everything.

“I-I-I-”

He was choking on them now, and he felt tears in his eyes, both in frustration that he was once more falling prey to a childhood ailment that he had fought for so long to defeat, and because he was afraid. He was afraid of losing her.

A fear that he clearly should not have had.

He felt a hand on his chest, and he looked up to see Daphne standing before him, her hand simply resting over his heart. His shirt was still damp, and he looked up as his eyes locked with hers. There were tears in her eyes, and he realized, then, that she was crying as well. Crying, because he could not speak the words… crying, because she feared for them as well.

His arms went around her, tugging her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him as well. Holding her again, holding her so tight, it had never felt so wonderful. He had never truly been held, been squeezed in such a manner as her arms tightened around his waist, and he buried his face into her hair, clinging to her, unable to let go.

Simon did not know how long they stood there, but neither of them were crying out loud, and neither were letting go.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the words seemed to escape without thought, but he was glad of it. He was sorry, and there was more to it than that, but he had to at least start there.

“We can talk about this later,” Daphne insisted into his chest. “But neither of us have slept. Come, let us at least go to bed-”

“No,” he said, letting go and taking a step back from her. Her arms fell away from him, and then crossed over her chest, her lips parted and face shocked.

“No, no,” he said then, stepping back to her, cradling her face in his hands. “Yes, no, Daff-”

“Simon,” she said in response, looking up at him with big eyes. “I know you have so much to say, and you are struggling to say it, and if you still are uncertain of your feelings, or you do not wish to say you love me, then-” 

“I do,” he insisted, his lips shaking. “I do. I love you.”

Her lips shook as well, and then tears began to fall down her face. She looked away from him, towards the couch, then the floor, then at his chest, and then she was back in his embrace, crying. His arms wrapped around her as she tucked herself into him, and he did not let go, holding her, his hands running over her hair.

It seemed as though those words, the confirmation that he loved her… it was breaking the floodgates. She had been so strong, so brave, had simply lifted her chin every time he had dismissed her, had pushed her away… 

Simon could not control what his wife did. He could not control what she had done. All he could control was his own decisions, and his decisions… he had made so many along the way to reach this point, each one more disastrous than the last. He had done this to her. He had pushed her into this position.

He had begun this little ruse. He had told her about what to do at night. He had followed her into the maze. He had lied to her about having children. He had continued to take advantage of her naivete. He had pushed her away when she had confronted him on it. He had threatened to leave her all together.

His actions had broken his wife, and he clung to her now, allowing her to sob into his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered into her temple, holding her tighter. “I have loved you for so long. I knew I had no right to love you, but I did. It was never a choice for me. I was in it before it even began.”

Her hands came out from where they had been crushed between them, and her arms went back around him, her fingers digging into his back as he clung to her.

“And I’m so sorry, Daphne,” he whispered. “You were right. I did take advantage, but it was not because I did not trust you. I was afraid. I was afraid that I was not worthy of you, of feeling your love. I was scared that if I told you the truth, I would have to tell you everything.”

She was shaking her head into his chest, and his hand moved to the back of her neck as he pulled back slightly, looking down at her as she looked up.

“And I should have. I should have told you everything, but we were so happy, and I knew that once I started, I would have to tell you all, when should I tell you? Over dinner? While in bed? How does one even begin to explain the hell that was their childhood.”

She said nothing, her lips pursing together, and her tears had slowed, but her eyes were red rimmed.

Now that he had begun to speak, he was unable to stop, the words pouring out of him, finally, thankfully.

“I should have told you, and I know that now. I know that I cannot be without you, and that I love you, but I do not know how to be a husband, or a father. I do not know how to do any of this. So, you shall have to teach me, for indeed, I barely even know how to love myself, let alone love another.”

She smiled up at him, her lips pressing together still, and she nodded, swallowing down, then breathing hard, searching for her own words.

“I will,” she promised. “But, I do not know how to be a mother either, or a wife. What I did, taking your choice-”

She choked on her words, then, and he shook his head, his hand moving back to her face, brushing those damnable bangs back out of the way. 

“Tell me the truth, Daphne, did you know what you were doing that night, when you did not slow down?”

She looked up at him, stricken, lips parting, and she looked ready to nod, or to shake her head. Clearly, even now, she was not certain of her motivations.

“I… I knew that seed must be present to make a child. I had to ask someone, and I knew that… that you always withdrew.”

She licked her lips, looking down at his chest, and then back up at him.

“I do not know what I was doing. I thought… In truth, I did not think it was real. I did not think you had lied to me. For a brief moment, I had even thought… how kind, to keep this mess from within me, if the seed would not work. I did not think that you… that you would lie to me. I did not want to believe it.”

Her lips pressed together, and she teared up again, her face falling forward, her forehead going to his chest. “I did not plan it, I swear, but you were within me, and I thought… this would reach the bottom of it. If you were upset afterwards, it would mean that you had lied to me… and I thought… Simon, I knew if I asked, you would deny it, and I was afraid…”

She was right, of course. If she had asked, he would have denied it, fumbled his way into some truth, would have insisted that something was wrong with his seed, that it was different from other men, which was how the doctors knew his would not work, or-

She was right. And to know she had not pre-planned it… He had been the one to lead her to bed that night. Upon reflection, she had withdrawn from him. All of this… All of this, because they could not have a conversation. Because they kept things from one another. Because they did not share the truth.

“I kept things from you, and that was not right,” he said, his hand moving to her chin, forcing her eyes up towards him. “I was afraid that you would be ashamed of me, that you would not love me, if I told you the truth. I trapped you in this marriage… I trapped you without telling you how broken I was.”

Her lips parted to speak, but he moved his thumb over her lips, silencing her before she could go further.

“So please, let me tell you the truth. I, Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings, love you, Daphne Bridgerton Basset, Duchess of Hastings. I love you, and I choose to be married to you. I choose to spend all my days with you, and I make this vow to you, a new vow, one which trumps all others.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes going to the ceiling for a moment, and he thought about his father, and the anger he had had for so long, and how his anger for his father had overruled the love he had for Daphne. No more. He would allow his father to control him no longer.

“I vow, Daphne Bridgerton Basset, to love you for the rest of my life. To tell you my fears. To trust in your love for me. To work on our marriage. And to be the man you need me to be.”

His thumb left her lips, and then she turned her face, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand, then looked up at him.

“I vow,” she started, her voice cracking slightly as tears ran from her cheeks, hopefully for the last time, “to love you for the rest of my life. Even the parts of you that you think are too broken and shattered to love. To tell you when I am afraid. To trust in your love for me. To work to be a good wife. To stay, and to confide in you, to ask you instead of assuming. And… to be the wife that you need me to be.”

She smiled up at him, so brightly and brilliantly, that he could not resist, bending down to press his lips to hers. It was gentle and loving, tender, and when he pulled back, he brushed her hair back from her face once more, his fingers unable to stop touching her.

“Now, can we please go to bed?” she asked with a slight hiccup.

He laughed, nodding, and then scooped her up suddenly. Daphne gasped, her arms going around his neck, and he took the few steps to the bed, then tossed her onto it. He had missed her so greatly, and to simply hold her again…

He climbed onto the bed with her, clicking off his boots as he did so, and she reached down, shrugging off the dressing gown, leaving her in only her night shift.

His breeches and shirt were still wet, and he fumbled with the buttons, wanting to be free of them, leading to Daphne having to help him. He laughed with her, knowing he should have undressed before he climbed into her bed, and he shrugged out of his shirt as well, until he was left in nothing.

He did not care, however, instead just wanting to hold his wife.

They moved together until they were underneath the blankets, and he lay on his back, Daphne laying half across him, her head on his chest. He let out a sigh of relief, so glad to have her back where she belonged.

“Might I add a vow?” he asked softly, his lips going to her forehead to press a kiss there.

“Mmm?” she asked, her body tucking itself closer in against his as she spoke.

“That you and I never sleep in separate beds again.”

He could feel her smile on his skin, and she looked up at him, a bit of cheekiness clear on her lips.

“Your Grace, is it not customary for the Duke and Duchess to have separate bedchambers?” she asked with a tease.

“I am not a normal Duke,” he said, grinning as his hands went to her waist, pulling her body up on top of his. “And you are certainly not a normal Duchess.”

She giggled at that, her hands going to his chest, and her fingers ran up and down, nails scratching slightly. He groaned at the touch, delighted to feel her touching him, and he shifted his hips a little, getting himself a bit more comfortable.

“Am I not, your Grace?” she asked, raising her brow.

“No,” he insisted, grinning up at her. “For you and I… we love one another, most desperately. We shall not do things in the typical way. We shall fill our days with caring for our tenants, for our household. For…” 

The world fell off for a minute, and then he moved his hands lower on her hips, wanting to move her body down on his.

“For our children. And our nights, we shall never spend them apart again.”

Her cheeks colored, and she nodded, swallowing, but her hands had stopped moving on his chest. He raised his brow, waiting for her to speak, but she said nothing, her eyes remaining on where her hands sat.

“What is it?” he asked, one of his hands moving to run up and down her back, slowly, soothing.

“I just…” she shook her head slightly, looking a bit sad. “Simon… if you do not want to have children, then please… do not have them on my account. This is something we can discuss, later. When we are ready. We will have a lifetime together. If you are uncertain-”

He sat up quickly, his wife sliding down his body until she was sitting on the top of his thighs, and he could feel the heat of her pressing against his prick.

“Waiting ten months for a child to grow within you is long enough, I think,” he said, his hands going into her hair. He tugged it back from her face, so that she could look into his eyes, nowhere else. “My vow to my father is gone. All that matters now is my vow to you. To be with you. To have a life with you. To be happy with you. To have a house full of children with you.”

She smiled a little, almost timidly, and he wondered if now she was the one questioning.

“If you want to wait,” he said, one of his hands releasing her hair, going back to running down her spine. “Then we can do so, but I love you, Daphne, and I want to see in your arms the product of our love. I want a family together. I knew that, before I walked up those stairs. I burned everything in his office, so that you and I might start fresh. That our marriage might start anew.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes, seeming to savor his touch as he withdrew from her skin.

“I love you, Daphne. May I…”

They had both been terrible at asking permission before, but he would do so now, and would continue to do so, until the trust that had been burned between them was long forgotten, and there was no question as to what they both desired.

“May I take this gown off of you?” he asked, his hand moving to her shoulder, where the top strap of her night shift was. “May I have you in this bed? May I finish inside of you?”

Daphne’s eyes opened wide, her lips parting, and he knew exactly what her look said. It was not a verbal confirmation, but he had seen that look before, when she was so turned on by him, she had to breathe harder, to catch her breath.

“Yes, yes,” she gasped, her hands going to his neck, to his shoulders. Her hips moved against his, and he groaned, his hands moving quickly to the very front.

Together, they were able to untie her shift, and then he was pushing it down her arms, until it was pooled around her waist. His hands went to her hips, lifting her up, and together, they threw the offending garment towards the floor. His own legs kicked the blankets down from around them, until it was just them, nothing in the way, his wife and her gorgeous body straddling his.

“I must confess,” he said with a grin, laying back on the bed. “I never normally get to enjoy the look on your face as you peak, for I am too busy being scared that I would not withdraw in time.”

She raised her brow at him, and then smirked, leaning down towards him, her lips pressing daintily to his before she pulled back.

“Today, your Grace, I think your greatest fear should be that I desire you so greatly, you will not be able to last long enough to have me until I am satiated.”

He grinned, pleased that his wife was so free with her words, something so different from the start of their marriage. She was more relaxed, took pride in her own pleasure, and he was the better for it.

He was going to enjoy this.

Daphne shifted over him, until his cock could stand up tall between them, and he reached down, grasping his length. He wanted to taste her, to run his tongue between her folds in search of every last drop of her pleasure, but he was impatient, and she seemed to be as well as she shifted forward, her body sinking down onto his.

They groaned together, Simon’s hips thrusting upwards, and he could feel the wetness dripping from her, a clear sign that she was already turned on more than enough.

It was not enough for him, however, and his hand moved to her nub, parting her folds in search of it. He found it easily, his fingers covering that spot, and as he dug his heels into the bed to thrust upwards again, his thumb found her, rolling it in time with his thrust.

Daphne squealed on top of him, and he could feel her core clench, dragging a groan from Simon as he tried to thrust again. Daphne, however, was trying to rock her hips, and together, it was a stuttered mess. They were clearly out of practice, no longer in time with one another, and as she smirked down at him, he knew that she was clearly amused as well.

“Remind me later to bend you over my desk and have my way with you,” he said as he rolled his thumb around her clit again. “Perhaps I shall tie you down, so that I might make you peak so many times, you go insane.”

His hand went back to her hips, lifting her off of him, and he hated the loss, but in this moment, having her on top would not work. 

He wanted his wife under him, so that he could worry about only her pleasure, as he had wanted to do for so long. His own pleasure would surely come, as it always did, when he had her shrieking underneath him. 

And his wife… he simply wanted her to lay back and feel good.

Simon rolled them over, going back between her thighs, and lifted her legs up high on his waist so he could sink into her. She was open for him, and he ran his hand up her body, between her breasts, over her neck, up to her mouth - his thumb pressed into her mouth, the same thumb that had just been touching her, and she sucked on it, likely tasting the mixing flavor of the two of them.

He groaned as he fucked into her, hard, glad to have her body back under his, and she gasped, her body bouncing slightly.

His hand left her face, back to her neck, and he wrapped his hand around it, noting how her body clenched up around him. His hand went lower, to her between her breasts, and he pinched one nipple, then the other, tugging each upward in turn, back and forth. Her head fell back, gasps escaping her throat, and he planned, then, when he fucked her later with her arse in the air, that he would play with her breasts the whole time.

He left the slightly swollen nips alone and moved lower, to her smooth belly. Fuck, that could soon be growing large with a child in it, but for now, as he rocked his hips, he could swear he could see himself within her. He felt, at times, as though he was splitting her in two, her small body simply accommodating his thickness and length, but now he believed it. His hand splayed out across her skin, pressing down, and she let out a gasp, clearly enjoying either the warmth or the weight. 

He could feel it, though, could feel himself within her, and he groaned before forcing his hand to move slightly, his thumb going back between her folds.

“You are so beautiful,” he groaned, rolling her clit underneath the pad of his finger in time with his thrusts. “So perfect. So mine. My wife. My love.”

Her back was arching up off the bed as he kept going, and he had to grit his teeth as his free hand tightened itself on the back of her thigh, keeping her legs up for him, so that he could go deeper within her.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” he insisted, and he groaned as he felt her pulse around him, a sure sign that she was close.

Clearly, she got off on his words, hearing him say such things.

“Simon-” she gasped, her eyes closed and her head falling back. 

He knew he was close, and feeling her tightening around him was not helping, particularly given how long it had been since he had had release, but without the fear of needing to pull out in time, the only fear he had was that he would not last long enough to grant her her own pleasure. He should have taken his mouth to her first - a mistake that he would not repeat in the future - but in this moment, he just knew he had to last.

“I love you,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he tried to make each thrust. “So much. Spend our lives together. Every night I’m going to have you. Can’t wait to taste you-”

She was gasping, shrieking, her hands going into the blankets trying to find somewhere to grasp, and he groaned, letting himself go, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he continued to rub at her nub. He felt her tightening around him, loosening, her core pulsing, and he forced his eyes open to watch as her lips parted and she screamed. He groaned as his hand fell away and he let himself loose into her, the pressure that had built up finally being released, and he fell forward, his face pressing into the pillow beside her head.

She was still gasping for air as he moaned, his body seeming to melt into the bed, little waves of aftershock pleasure shooting into his belly and legs. It had never felt so delicious before, to find release in such a sweet place. Oh, he was going to never grow used to that, to the feeling of losing himself in her.

He was unable to move, and simply opened one eye to look at her as her body went between them, to between her legs. He had certainly left a mess there, a mixture of both their fluids, and he watched her face as she touched, and then grimaced. He could not help but to laugh softly, reaching around on the bed for a cloth-

Oh, right. He did not have one. Always, in the past, he had kept a handkerchief, something nearby, to catch his spend, but given that he was no longer losing himself elsewhere.

“I shall have to grow used to the mess,” she said with a giggle.

He grinned and forced himself up onto one arm, his body half hover over hers as he leaned forward to kiss her lips. She kissed him back, slowly, sweetly, and then he moved to climb off the bed in search of something.

He found his shirt, and made a mental apology to his groom, before, wrapping the shirt around his softened cock and cleaning it, then going between her legs and helping to clean the mess as well.

“Is any of it still within me?” she asked, her voice filled with questions and confusion.

His eyes moved to her slit, where more of their cream was coming from her, and he found it somehow utterly erotic, to see her pink folds filled with their combination. He imagined the taste - a venture for another day.

“You are still filled with me, my love,” he insisted, tossing the shirt back onto the floor and sliding up on the bed.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, his body feeling heavy as he pulled her back towards her.

“Can we do that again?” she asked softly, and he pressed his face into the back of her neck, kissing the skin there.

“Again, and again,” he said, his hand moving down to tuck her body up against his, her back pressed to his chest. “As many times as you desire… but I shall need to rest my eyes first.”

She relaxed in his arms, and he wrapped his forearm across her middle, holding her there. Her hand moved down to join his, their fingers interlocking, her hand over top of his.

“We shall be okay,” he promised against her hair. “Sleep, my wife.”

She nodded slightly, squeezing his hand, and he pressed a kiss to her ear, then relaxed back down into the bed.

He held her, listening to her breathing, feeling his heart beating against his own chest. He said nothing more, until eventually she fell asleep. He knew he should rest, but he could not look away.

This warmth, this feeling, holding her in his arms, the truth between them, all preconceived notions gone, all assumptions faded away, all of the lies and deceit… all that was left, was them. All that they had, all that they wanted, their desires, their dreams…

All he had left now was a bright and brilliant future with her.

He liked that far more than the anger. He loved her far more than he ever hated his father.

“One day,” he vowed, knowing she was asleep. “You and I shall have a child. I do not care if it is a son or a daughter. The only thing I care is that our child is healthy, and that you are well. We shall raise our child with love. And you and I… we shall get through this, together.”

**Author's Note:**

> I mean. What? Don't look at me like that.
> 
> first things first, if you don't know where to find me, the tumblr link will at the bottom of this note. That's where I am, that's where you can send all complaints, come find out what else I'm up to, blah blah. I'm over there. That's where you get me.
> 
> Second of all, I STARTED A PODCAST. If you follow me on tumblr, you know that I'm doing these random ted talks about saphne scenes, breaking it down, etc etc. You can listen to me on Spotify, ranting about this, no posting schedule because we do it like we did it back in the 2000s where nothing is really planned, but you can find all of the details on my blog. Again, tumblr, that's where I am.
> 
> Third of all, if you are looking forward to more Saphne content!!!!! NEWS!!! I'm finally working my way through my prompts in my inbox on tumblr. There's... a lot of them. I'm working on them while I work on what is going on in my final part of this note, but, once I'm ahead on what will be noted in the final part of this note, I will also begin working on..... MY ABO SAPHNE FIC FINALLY. It has a title, a banner, the notes have been written since like January 2nd, literally, and I'm finally about to get started on it. I'm hoping hoping to start posting in Mid-March??? And, we're going to hit the ground running fast. FAST. fast. Like... you need to be walking into Chapter 3 with galoshes sort of thing. I'll see y'all there.
> 
> And fourth and finally - my current project is titled A Rake, A Spinster, And An Arrangement. It is Dramione meets Bridgerton, with all of your favorite HP Characters thrown into the bridgerton world. You do not necessarily need to know anything HP if you just want to read a regency fic - it has fake dating, secrets, near touching, and a handsome Rake that is trying to resist, but failing to resist, the smart little debutante that gives him constant sass.
> 
> OH NEARLY FORGOT! THANK YOU TO MarieKey here on AO3 for being so wonderful and betaing this for me. Poor poor canttouchthis has been SLOGGING HER WAY through the garbage that has been RSA, which is over 40k words right now that she needs to edit, and we're just... poor bean... She needed a break. She's a hot commodity and I had to share her, so lovely MarieKey reached out to me on tumblr ( telling you, you can find me there! ) and stepped in on the save!
> 
> And, as promised, [tumblr](https://melanoradrood.tumblr.com/).


End file.
